the fis dragonfly digest - weebly

The F

IS L

itera

ture M

aga

zin

e

Dragonfly Digest

• Prose • Verse • Artwork

2012. Volume III. Edition I.

The Journey to Spring

Dragonfly Digest, The Journey to Spring, Volume III, Edition I 1

Editor’s Message

Dear Readers,

The Dragonfly Digest celebrates its third anniversary this year. The school’s sole English literary magazine continues to encourage literary and artistic expression. It carries on to promote our students’ passion for the English language and love for artwork, truly reflecting the aspiring talents of budding authors, poets and artists alike. All in all, the Dragonfly Digest is truly a manifestation of the boundless imagination and creativity of our students.

Having experienced the publishing process for two consecutive years, I am amazed by the unimaginable ways in which the magazine has flourished. We hope you will notice great improvement in our current volume. The editors have done an exceptional job in the process of publishing the magazine and should be congratulated for their patience and effort. Above all, without the valuable guidance of Mr Bogart, this rich experience would not have been possible.

I, on behalf of the Dragonfly Digest team, am proud to present a wealth of prose, verse and artwork for your enjoyment.

Yours sincerely,

Athena Chuang

Co-Editor in Chief

Cover Design: Veronica Bogart F4A

Front Cover Artwork: Charlotte Gauthier U6 & Gabriel Remington F1B

Back Cover Artwork: Tiana Cheney U6

Back Inside Cover: Alya Francis F1A

All prose, verse and artwork are written, created and designed by French International School students and are not to be reused without permission. All rights reserved.

Editors • Athena Chuang F4B, Co-Editor in Chief • Veronica Bogart F4A, Art Editor • Isabella Strapp F3B, Prose Editor • Melissa Yin Yeung Cho F3B, Verse Editor • Mr Jason Bogart, Staff Editor


The Golden Yangtze David Vacek F2A The great pillared mountains soar, Statuesque and grand. The elegant water glistens in the moonlight, Like the magical stars in the midnight sky. The golden sediment that occupies the river bed, Articulates each wave’s synchronized bounce. The miraculous river is diamond worthy, As you cruise along the Golden Yangtze. The villages that line the river coast, Stand proud; representing historical magic. Charming Cormorants with boastful bows, Contently crouch on their bamboo boats. They plummet through the delicate river. Like a memorable shooting star cutting the sunset sky. The yellow deposit unravels honorable history, As you drift along the Yangtze. Water Buffalos surround the waters contour, Exultantly nibbling on the luscious leaves. Dazzling dolphins jump for freedom, Producing amazing arches like enchanted bridges. All the creatures are spotted and stalked, By people jaunting through furtive forests. All the unique creatures flee, As you glide along the Yangtze.

Yangtze River Heloise Dunlop F1B Hope, despair, Of the Yangtze River. Serpent of life, Coiling through gorges, Cleaving mountains. Scenery changes, She moves on, Unchanged. Famine, earthquake, On either side, The boundary of peoples, She passes by, unmoved. A ladder into the clouds, The source of plenty Since time immemorial. Untamed, Violent, She is merciful, The life of her nation. Tamed, Unrespected, Turned to man’s uses, She became a destroyer. Respect the great river.


Artwork: Athena Chuang F4B


New Tales of the Yangtze River (extract) Jovian Ma F4B The ship cut through the water gently, causing the moon’s reflection to gently ripple. It was a calm night, and the crew was all fast asleep in their quarters. All except the captain, but he was used to this. It was quite a normal night for him. Tonight, the ship would be entering the Yangtze River, one of the most famous rivers in China, and the longest river in the whole of Asia. They had been called to the famous Three Gorges Dam, the largest hydroelectric power station in the world. The captain took another puff on his cigar, and steered the boat towards the mouth of the river. As dawn drew nearer, the crew came out of their quarters, all chatting about what exciting things they were going to see. Some mentioned the porpoises, and some the river dolphins. The exhausted captain chuckled under his breath. In all his years, he had never seen his experienced crew members act like little children, restless and excited. They would have to spend an entire day on the river before they reached the Three Gorges Dam. The ship sped on through the river, and the captain retreated to his quarters for some well-deserved rest. The captain left his quarters at about noon to check on his ship’s progress. As he expected, the crew had been efficient and they were well ahead of schedule. The ship could not arrive too early, because there were too many ships already there that day. Therefore, the captain decided to stop the ship, and let the crew enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Seconds after he declared the good news, the crew members rushed to their quarters to retrieve their cameras. They hurried out onto the sides of the ship, and took as many pictures of the passing animals as they could. It pleased the captain to see his crew so happy, even if he did not always show his appreciation, he knew that they were good men. The afternoon passed extremely quickly, and the men were having dinner in the canteen. It was very rowdy and noisy, but everyone was enjoying themselves, so they did not mind at all. As it got later, less and less people remained in the canteen. Once again, the only person left awake was the captain. He started the ship’s engine, and the ship lurched forward. He looked out onto the river. From where he stood, it looked like a huge, never-ending snake. He took out a cigar, and lit it. He took a puff, and then gazed reverently at the view. Suddenly, the ship hit a slight wave, the boat shook, but not violently. The captain smiled with a bit of excitement in his eyes and looked out onto the river. He sighed at the beauty of the night and took another puff on his cigar. As he calmed down, the boat hit a larger wave. This time he walked out to the side of the ship and looked down into the water. It was dark, and the only light was the light from the ship. The water was murky, and there were many waves, unlike the night before. The captain heard a creaking noise, and turned around. There was nobody around so he continued to puff on his cigar. Then a shadow crept up behind him. The captain was dead before he hit the ground.


The Breeze Matilda Cimmerbeck F3B I lie idly, waiting in the light breeze, As children play and laugh with each other. I listen to the rustling of leaves I see a girl hugging her big brother. Birds are flying high up in the sky. How would it be, to be able to see The world. And how would it be to fly? Just imagine the feeling to be free. Like the children’s kites, flying high and low. Time is ticking and I must soon go home. The children say ‘Bye’ as they too must go Home. Though it is comfortable, here in the loam… So I lie, idly, waiting in the breeze, Waiting to hear the rustling of leaves.

Flowers Katie O’Donoghue F1A Flowers are really pretty They come in many types They can be found in most cities Flowers are usually quite bright In Hong Kong flowers are everywhere In the country and the town Found in most people’s gardens You can see them all around Flowers can be used for decoration On special days each year Perfect for Christmas celebrations To give some festive cheer

Artwork: Stephanie Cheong (bottom left) & Alana Li (top right) F4A


The Sampan (extract) Athena Chuang F4B The sampan glided noiselessly through the rippling water. It was a moving miniscule dot on the river’s surface, confined between the looming mountains that appeared on either side of it. Soft moonlight shone on the water’s surface and the air was aromatic with the scent of spring in full bloom. The muted chirruping of crickets was vaguely audible and fireflies lit up the vast night sky. A delicate cool breeze tickled the long, dancing grass. It would have been a peaceful night had the passengers on board been taking a leisurely cruise down the river.

The helmsman was an aged, whiskered man; each movement forward was the result of his entire bodily strength. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead as he laboriously manoeuvred the paddle with his arms toughened with decades of work. A weak lamp flickered on a fishing rod attached to the sampan – it was the helmsman’s sole guide to navigating the river in the dead of night. A girl not far into her adolescent years was resting her head on the wall of the sampan’s compartment. It was obvious that she was struggling to stay awake, as she constantly stifled a yawn and rubbed her bloodshot eyes. Soon enough, her head bowed down to indicate that she had fallen asleep; her curtain of black hair covered the length of her pale face.

Then, a young man’s head appeared from the doorway of the cabin as if to check on the girl. He resembled the girl, but had stronger, more masculine features and cropped dark hair. Finding her asleep, the young man smiled and shook his head at the same time – then disappeared back inside the cabin. He reappeared with a light coat and gently placed it over the sleeping girl. The girl suddenly jolted back upright.

“Qing! I told you – I’m not cold!” the girl cried in annoyance and shrugged off the coat.

“Shh, xiao mei, not so loud now,” Qing Jiang said desperately. He placed a finger on his sister’s lips and glanced around alertly. He reached his hand down to feel her hand. “You’re cold. Don’t lie to me again xiao mei, it’s time you softened your dignity.”

“Don’t call me xiao mei – I’m not your baby sister anymore,” Mei He continued in the same tone and volume. “I swear sometimes you forget that I’m already fifteen! I’m sure even Ma would have disapproved of your overprotectiveness.”

With the mention of their late mother, the argument rapidly died down. The helmsman took this opportunity to anchor the sampan and take a rest, as he had been steering for the whole day. He was a man of few words and he pointed to the lamp that was flickering feebly, wanting it extinguished.

Artwork:

Aaron Lit F4B


Snowflakes Race

Isabella Strapp F3B She falls from above floating forever Spinning to the ground her job nearly done What others hope to do she will never, Come join me my friends, she calls out for fun. Today’s the day she hoped would never come The violins strings shine deep in the ground She cries as she disappears on my thumb Her white complexion turns clear with no sound. She drops to the ground, yet turns no one’s head A frown appears on her droopy wet face. The last thing she said, was on her death bed Though it all up and down, she won first place. The flowers did grow with help from two things, Her soft complexion and violin strings.

Stars Olivia Brink F1A Stars are like sequins On deep velvet cloth They sparkle and shimmer Like beautiful moths But here in Hong Kong You cannot see them For there are too many lights That are not dim I look at the sky But all I can see Are Ocean Park’s lights Glaring at me Child: Why don’t we have stars? Adult: Because we need lights Child: Oh do we now? This has been going on for too many nights! Let’s turn off our lights So we can all see The beautiful lights Right above me!

Artwork: Audrey Lai (bottom left) & Stephanie Cheong (top right) F4A


Switched Ishan Rosha F2A Geronimo was stunned. He and his friend had just created an invention that would revolutionize the way people wrote and it would definitely be their best invention yet. The everlasting pencil created in the year 2013.

Geronimo Pierre Johnson and Francis Michael Jacobs lived in Washington D.C., they were only 14 and were in love with science. At an early age the two boys started creating inventions in Geronimo’s lab (a lab that his parents bought him). In fact the inventions that they created were sold in stores and Geronimo and Francis became famous, rich and both earned scholarships to go to Harvard University.

The everlasting pencil was a hit and made the Johnson and Jacobs families’ billionaires but that was just the beginning for Geronimo because he was secretly developing an invention that would, beyond comparison, be the most exquisite invention in the world, the time-machine that enabled him to go back into past or into the future.

Geronimo went to his lab and started working on the invention. He made blueprints, melted metal, played with fire until he finally created it. Geronimo decided to test it before he showed it to Jacobs. He made a return hovercraft that would take him back to his normal time and set off. As soon as Geronimo pressed the ENTER button he was sucked into the time machine. Geronimo could feel the energy of time coursing through his veins. The pressure on Geronimo’s body was enormous it made him feel that all the weight of the world was on his back. He thought all of his bones would shatter into pieces and his organs would fly out of his mouth one by one. This feeling reflected the most extreme form of suffering one would go through just before death. However, Geronimo landed in the year 2030 in one piece.

Geronimo was petrified but he was also amazed. He was still dizzy from time travel but could not stop staring at the perfectionism of the year 2030. He could smell the clean air; he could see colossal and well-maintained buildings. He could not feel any dust in the air and could see no poverty on the streets. All men were wearing coats and ties for their jobs and the children were all neatly dressed and ready to go to school. What a wonderful world Geronimo thought.

Waterfall David Vacek F2A As the water rushes

through the

rocks, It goes left

right and middle.

You can ride a boat gently,

but then you drop

down the whizzing

waterfall. You surf around a

corner, and viciously ride on a high wave But then you chronologically

CRASH. In the wall of spraying spray at the

bottom. At the end you

realize; You want to do it all again!


Ghost Story Heloise Dunlop F1B Rufus stepped softly onto the front step. It creaked sinisterly and he jumped back in fear, his eyes wide. The room was dark and the evening sunlight seeped in, forcing itself through the ivy covering the dusty and cracked windows. The floor creaked and groaned and dust lingered on the furniture.

Being dared to stay the night in Vladislav Nekrasov’s old house was slightly too much for Rufus, who was usually adventurous and daring. The ghost of Vladislav Nekrasov was said to haunt the rooms of the old house, and fear clawed at Rufus’ stomach and a distant part of his brain was telling him to run away. Only his pride was stopping him. He would lose his popularity if he did, so he walked up the stairs and onto the landing.

He heard the stairs leveling themselves as he stepped off the last one. A small porcelain vase stood on a dusty wooden table and Rufus walked over to it. He tripped on a frayed carpet and went crashing into the table. The vase toppled over and shattered on the ground. Rufus jumped back, avoiding the falling pieces of porcelain and fell onto the wooden table, sending dust particles flying up into the air. He clutched his heart and panted. His heart was hammering.

Suddenly, he heard a quiet tapping noise. He stood up, blood roaring in his ears. He didn’t hear it, he didn’t hear it, he repeated, backing up until his back was touching the wall. The tapping noise was replaced by a dragging sound, like a shoe being trailed along the floor.

Rufus gave a whimper and ran down the corridor and burst into a room. He slammed the door behind him and only once he’d turned around did he realise that he’d entered the dead shoemaker’s bedroom.

The bed looked like it had been just made and some materials for making shoes were piled up on the ground. Rufus walked over to a bedside table and picked up a photograph. He blew on it and saw a black and white picture of Vladislav Nekrasov when he was about eleven. Rufus smiled.

Suddenly, without warning, the door flew open and the tip of a stick poked into the room. Rufus dropped the picture and the glass shattered on the floor. He ran to the window and thought about jumping out into the obscurity.

“Don’t, boy.” Advised an unknown voice behind Rufus.

Rufus whirled around, and his jaw opened in a soundless scream. Vladislav Nekrasov stood framed in the doorway. He looked almost transparent. Vladislav Nekrasov was dressed in baggy trousers and one leg was splayed uselessly behind him. He had no shirt but wore an apron. He leant on a stick and one hand was stroking his long grey beard. His eyes looked amused by Rufus’ fear.

“You’ll hurt yourself, boy. Don’t jump.”

“Are you the shoemaker Vladislav Nekrasov?” Rufus asked, stepping forwards tentatively, his eyes darting right and left.

“I was the shoemaker Vladislav Nekrasov.” Vladislav Nekrasov chuckled and limped forwards. Rufus jumped back again. “I must stay here and haunt my own house and seep fear into innocent children’s bodies. I am condemned to do so.”

Rufus relaxed. He was in a house of a dead man who wished to die peacefully. To rest in peace.

“Mr. Nekrasov...as a child, I don’t care. You can’t rest in peace because you must haunt children because they haunted you. My mother and father used to mock you, but yet you made the best shoes and were never spiteful to those who hurt you.”


“I did.” Vladislav Nekrasov turned around and tried to limp out, but turned around. “Sleep well, boy, and remember me. Never forget, I’m here to haunt. Leave early tomorrow or you will regret coming. I’m sorry.” He turned around again and was about to turn the corner to disappear when Rufus said,

“You’re forgiven, Mr. Nekrasov.”

Rufus thought he heard a chuckle.

Rufus looked back at the house as he walked out. He felt sorry to leave it. He no longer felt any fear, only sadness for the man who would never rest in peace. Vladislav Nekrasov was not a monster, but a man with a deformation that made his life harder.

He had changed. Popularity mattered a lot, but knowing how easy his life was was better. He wanted to be like the dead shoemaker. Respected for his job and ready to forgive.

Rufus picked up an overgrown plant and blew on it. It flickered but didn’t fly away. It was rooted to one spot, like Vladislav Nekrasov. Ready to move on, but reluctant to leave.

Ready to forgive.

Artwork: Kelly Chadwick U6


Untitled Ella Cairns F2A I watched, closely A dog, walking Not too fast, but Not to slow. Steadily, Just walking. I loved that dog. It began to run, Like he was chasing something. There was a bird There was a dog I knew what was going to happen. I closed my eyes. I heard a scream, And began to cry. I hated that dog.

P is for Pelican Chloe Verman F1B Pickled Pelicans Peck, Across a painted sky, They swoop smoothly like, Painter’s paintbrushes. They drop towards a sea of color and life, Shimmering flashes of rainbow, Here and there. Pelicans peck petite fishes, Gobbling them up, In a feast fit for kings. As packed, plethoric pelicans Make their way home, To the tropical shores of Timor.

Artwork: Benjamin Cimmerbeck U6


Dolphin Back (extract) Aaron Lit F4B Hugging the cliffs on the west side of the river, dozens of wooden cabins rose out of the river standing on their stilts. These were linked by strong bridges of wooden planks to create an airy, comfortable, sunny water village. A gust of wind howled through the valley, whipping a boy’s rough hair over his eyes and biting his cheeks. Yeung shivered and hugged his bare, tanned shoulders, drawing back from looking out of the window into his room. He walked over to his dresser, where he pulled looked at the beautiful shells of dead animals, oil lanterns, a small, rusted compass, and an elegant telescope with engravings of sea creatures on the sides. Yeung recognized a mermaid and a Baijitun like his brother Rong Rong, but the other creatures were all unfamiliar to him. These objects, he had all found while snorkeling with Rong Rong in a bend in the river, where debris collected.

When Yeung found any valuable treasures, he would give them to his parents who lived in the following cabin, and to shushus and yiyis of whom he liked. A generous boy, Yeung would only keep some souvenirs for himself. Today’s stormy weather would surly present him with more treasures than usual, and the cold weather could do little to down his spirits.

Yeung grabbed a large, pink conch and ran to the back of the cabin, where he pushed open the door to stairs leading from the cabin down to the muddy banks. He dismissed the squelching noise every time his feet left the mud while running and paid no mind to the flecks of dirt that flew into his face when his feet kicked them up. He reached the shore by running under the bridge that linked his cabin to his parents and charged into the water, spraying water all over himself. He ignored the coolness of it, for he knew he would warm up once swimming in the river with Rong Rong. Rubbing his already wet hands over his naked chest, he knelt and lowered his face near the water. Then, he brought the conch to his mouth and blew as hard as he could into the water, closing his eyes as the bubbles burst at the surface. He blew one long, followed by a short, and then another long. Boooooom-ba-boooooom! The conch sounded.

As always, the answer came as thus – a thin, grey pyramid, barely visible against the similar color of the water, broke the surface. So smooth was the movement that not a drop of water was thrown into the air, and not a sound could be heard by the human ear. This pyramid rose, still keeping the perfect thin shape, until its base could just be seen below the surface. Yeung had watched this scene over a hundred times, yet the appearance of the rest of the creature always caught him by surprise. One moment, only the fin was visible, and no matter how hard he squinted, he could not see the face of the creature. And then his eyes would bear the squinting no longer and he would have to blink several times to wet the surface of his eye, and when he looked again, a round head would materialize out of the murk, taking him by surprise … again.

Purple Chickens Nicholas Fok F3B Nothing in more important than a cow In times, a cow is more valuable than a diamond.

A cow can people alive Death may be without a cow.

Down the wooden fence And next to the purple chickens.

Dragonflies Sophie Chong F1A They fly over the pond,

Weave through the fresh green grass,

Under the bright summer sun.

They flutter the crystal wings,

Blink their beady round eyes,

And fly away like magical fairies.


Emerald Eyes (extract) Isabella Strapp F3B Did God no longer have faith?; was this really his plan all along? My body trembled as I clenched onto my father’s cold pale hand. His deep emerald eyes gazed into mine, telling the world that he was only half alive. Slowly his cracked lips opened and from somewhere deep within three simple words that I had waited to hear my whole life were set free.

Early in the fresh, spring morning the doorbell chimed. I rushed down the stairs clinging to the wooden banister as I playfully jumped, missing the last two steps. My feet landed together with a thud, above my head I could see the crystal chandelier shake. Marcy, our maid called out from the kitchen begging me to stop running around. I pulled open our grand, wooden door to see the post boy standing on our doorstep. In his right hand he held a telegram addressed to my father. I thanked him as he placed the letter in my grasp. On the way back to my bedroom I dropped off the letter in father’s office. He was a full time Journalist who studied at Oxford University. He was very well regarded on the social ladder. My Father was a talented man; I had much respect for him. My Mother passed away fourteen years ago during labour. Father was 28 at the time; it was a large responsibility to be a single father with a job. He said that I was at that moment a burden on his life, hence why we had a maid.

When father returned home from work he walked straight into his office. The telegram I left for him lay on his desk. On the front it had the words “Walter Bennet” etched in blank ink. During tea that evening fathers face was solemn, and his manner was quite fatigued. “Elizabeth” he said in his stern “work voice” as I called it. I looked up at him, confused at his choice of tone. “I have received notice that we shall be leaving London”. My heart sunk what on earth could he mean, for generations the Bennett’s have lived in this very street, our life is here.

“Where shall we move too?” I asked. He finished his mouthful and cleared his throat. “We will be embarking on an overseas trip to China” he announced. I pushed my plate away from my reach; my stomach twisted and pulled in different directions. China, of all the marvellous places in the world, why in God’s name was China the choice of destination. That night I knelt down at the foot of my bed and prayed that somehow this would be a positive experience.

Before my eyes the house where I had taken my first steps and had lost my first tooth was packed into splinter filled, wooden crates. Marcy and I embraced for what I believed to be the very last time. I stood in my beloved cottage garden, filled with rose bushes that I had pruned and cared for. Tears streamed down my face as the wooden door was pulled closed. A back taxi waited for Father and I against the cobbled street curb. As we pulled away I watched my life disappear, dreading the moment when my new life would begin. When we arrived at the airport I carried my luggage into the building, following behind my father. The trip from London was simply a blur, yet somehow I managed to find my self-standing in Hong Kong, the place where my new life began. A British man wearing a brown tweed jacket with leather elbow pads greeted father and I. He introduced himself as professor Matthews, a new colleague of my Fathers. He took us to our new temporary home, for this was said not to be our final destination, but a “base” for the two of us. It was a charming house not as grand as my own back in London, but it seemed to behold a familiar colonial style.

We stayed in this house for all of two weeks, during that time I was given a tour around the area, it was called as “The Peak”, which was said to be the tallest mountain on Hong Kong Island. Father was not around often, he was with professor Matthews at a nearby college. I asked my father where we were moving to next but he explained that his plans were not yet certain. I knew that we were moving to China and that this move was due to his work but I had no clue where. One evening during our last few days at The Peak father told me that Professor Matthews and himself had decided that we shall venture off too the Yangtze River. He showed me on a map the location of our new home. It was certainly not large and had a peculiar name, I was not quite sure If my pronunciation was correct, but it was called Na Jing. Father told me that Western people did not inhabit the area, so I would be required to learn Mandarin, the native Chinese language.


The Unwritten Future Sophie Yeung F3B Look around you, look at all that you’ve done, Do you regret it? Do you feel guilty? As the rays from the sun burn through your skin The sea filled with dirt, trying to break free Remember this? The days the roads were clean Without the foul air polluting our streets The fields and meadows packed full with daisies.

Does it feel hard, the ground made of concrete? The tall towers look like they take over The world, and as all the green disappears Your fancy machines will soon run slower As oil runs out in one or two years There’s still time to stop, if you start now, So don’t let your future write itself out.

Artwork: Jessica Cheng F5A The Journey Debasmita Bhattacharya F2A As he woke up, he realized that he was lying on an operating table and faces in white masks were peering down at him. He recognized the surroundings since he had been in hospital before, but wondered what he was doing there now. Then he felt the pain… It was excruciating. They were extracting his very soul from his body. He struggled under the firm grip of gloved hands. He needed to escape. Somehow. There had to be a way. His life depended on it. Suddenly, a sharper pain hit and the world turned dark.

He was floating aimlessly through nothingness and felt strangely content. Happier than he had ever been in his life. He didn’t know why, but he felt as though he had forgotten something. Something extremely important but he just couldn’t recall what it was. An uneasy feeling niggled at him but before he could figure out why, he felt a tug in the pit of his stomach and was transported to a somewhat familiar place.

Horrified, he realized he was looking down at himself. Surgeons had dissected his body and were in the process of inserting razor thin, polished metal instruments into his torso. He noticed a syringe hanging out of the crook of his right elbow. He was totally disorientated and could not comprehend what was happening. How could he be in two places at the same time? What was that bizarre, wispy substance floating up from his chest? The terror built up. The fear of not knowing, of being lost in a familiar yet mysterious place, overwhelmed him. Suddenly, he couldn’t take it anymore. He let loose a blood-curdling scream and found himself back in his body, right where he belonged. The soul extraction had failed.


The Strange Teacher Sophia Putterill F1B

This is a strange tale of a teacher, She was a very nasty creature, All the students hated her, She was always in a stir, She always gave too much homework, She drove all the students berserk, But one day when she was giving a lecture, Students were talking and giving her pressure, She finally gave in and she shouted stop! But it was too late and she went whizz, bang, pop!

Dolphins in the Yangtze River (extract) Thomas Liu F3B The Yangtze River spans across the middle of China, having a length of 6481 km, spanning across passing through 8 provinces, 2 municipalities and 1 autonomous region, it has been one of the most important rivers in the history of China, only behind the Yellow River, called the mother river in Chinese Culture. Many poets and artists have painted pictures or written poems on the Yangtze; however we often neglect the bio-diversity of the Yangtze River. Once, there was a unique species of dolphins nicknamed the goddess of the Yangtze that has its origins dated back to 25 million years ago. It is now practically extinct, although ranked as Critically Endangered by the International Union for Conservation of Nature. The last ratified sighting of the species was in 2004 and the last known specimen died in 2002. Officially, this species of dolphins is called Baiji, literally meaning white dolphin in Chinese, and it’s only habitat is the Yangtze River, one of 4 species of dolphins that made fresh-water its sole habitat. It migrated from the Pacific Ocean, and it normally swims at a speed of 10-15 mph, imagine how long it would take to swim from the Pacific Ocean to deep in the Yangtze River! Also, since it had a bad sense of vision and hearing, it used sonar for navigation, sonar is an acronym for sound navigation and ranging, and with sonar the Baiji could detect obstacles, measure distances, and much, much, more. In the 1950s, there was a Baiji population of 6000, but the population drastically declined to a few hundred in the 1970s, dropping to 400 in the 80s and 13 in 1997. One of the reasons of the decline in Baiji population was the Great Leap Forward, one of the two disastrous campaigns conducted by Mao Zedong in his later years until his death, the other being the Cultural Revolution. Another reason for the decline of the population in Baiji was damming on the Yangtze River, most notably the Gezhou Dam and the Three Gorges Dam, when there was a tremendous decline in the amount of Baiji in the wild. For example, one year after the completion of the Gezhou Dam, in 1990, the population was at 200, compared to 300 in 1986. Also overfishing and hunting posed a problem as in the 70s and 80s, half of Baiji deaths were said to be caused by entanglement in fishing equipment. The main type of fishing that caused the most Baiji deaths was electrical fishing, although already outlawed. Furthermore, according to the Guinness World Records, it is the most endangered marine mammal on earth, aka cetacean, which surfaces to breath. It is also recognised by the government of the United States of America as an endangered species under the Endangered Species Act.


Basketball Ahina Ip F1A The game of the season , No one goes to bed; Unless they have a good reason, “Watch it!” coach said. A very sneaky drive to the net, Its ten to three for the blues; The game isn’t finished yet, Come on make them lose! It’s half time, The whistle blows; The bell chimes, A shot goes. The pressure’s on, it’s the last ten seconds, Nineteen all; “Black’s going to lose” I reckon, Black shoots it’s a close call. But blue hits it away, And dribbles to the net, before time’s gone; Three, two, one, Hurray! Blue’s won! Painless Poetry Charles Chung F1B Writing poetry makes you feel good, Some people misunderstood. Poetry is a way to show your skills, In your poem, you can add thrills. Being a poet can be a part-time job, Or you can write until your hands throb. Poetry can make you a living, It can be a poem for giving. Even if you don’t like it, just give it a try, Don’t just sit there and look at the sky. Remember poems don’t have to rhyme, You can do it in your spare time. Poems can be about everything, So you don’t have to worry about a thing!

Irremovable Harm Wei Hua Tin F2B I know this feeling I’ve had it before It feels like you’re bleeding Out from your core I need a clean break So I can think some more Or maybe I can finally think straight I know I may be overreacting But in the inside I’m not ecstatic Sometimes I need a little cry To leave all this pain behind If you don’t know this I’m telling you now I don’t think I’ll miss If not found This is my life And I like it safe and sound You may make me cry But you can’t demand All you do is make me sigh But don’t worry I can stand This life of mine So don’t control me Or pull me away Cause all you’re going to do Is lose me someday I may be here with open arms But remember this now You have done some irremovable harm

Artwork: Audrey Lai F4A


A Travel Through Time Neha Sreekumar F2A

A thick blanket of mist hung over the city of London like clothes on a washing line-damp, wet, heavy. Bitter wind howled through the night, accompanying the overhead rain that poured mercilessly down, creating circular puddles on the cracked roads. Blinding headlights pierced the night, glowing like the stars in the sky. Everything seemed normal.

Albert hugged his coat closer to him in hope of protecting himself from the bitter, cold wind. Trudging on, through the darkness, he turned left into the alley, praying to reach home soon. Amidst the foggy darkness, Albert could make out the silhouette of a hunched over figure. He was surprised to see someone - not many people wandered about at this time of night-. The silhouette moved, and an old man stepped out in front of Albert, blocking his path. His face was gnarled and wrinkled with age, and his eyes were a watery brown. In his hand lay a small rusty pocket watch, battered over time. The old man spoke in a shaky, tired voice. “This is a watch which will take you through the great eras of life. It will show you anything you want. Have fun, but be careful.” With that, the old man thrust the watch into Albert’s hand, and limped away. Albert was shocked beyond words. All he could manage to get out was “wait!” But it was too late. The old man was gone.

Albert sank into his cosy armchair with a sigh. Picking up the mysterious watch, he stared at it confused. He knew that time machines weren’t real and he knew that it was impossible to go back in time, but he couldn’t help but wish that it was possible. With a sigh, he placed the watch in his pocket, but while doing so, he accidentally pressed the small button located at the top of the pocket watch. For a moment, everything was normal.

Then it happened.

Chairs and books flew everywhere; flower vases tipped over and smashed against the floor. Picture frames cracked, and crashed to the floor. Everything was sucked into a fierce whirlwind that had opened up in the middle of the room. Albert stared dazed at his surroundings, unable to grasp what was happening. The pocket watch burned against his skin and started to shake violently. Albert too was sucked into the whirlwind, unsure of what was awaiting him.

Time had stopped. There, the world had stopped turning. It is why Albert fell on his right hand side; his body was trying to counteract the balance of the world which is forever turning left. Because the world for Albert had stopped, there was no wind, no smell, no taste, or anything. Time for every sense that is attributed to everything and anything on the planet had stopped.

Looking around, Albert realised that the cobbled street he was on seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. Gazing around again, his caught sight of a small house a few metres away from him, which he thought he recognized. Then it hit him. He was on his great-grandfather’s street. He had only come here once, as his great grandfather had passed away. Hesitantly, he took the pocket watch out from his pocket, and turned it around. Engraved on it were the words: “stop” and “start”. Albert furrowed his brow, and said the words out load. “Stop. Start.” As soon as he said “start”, however, everything turned back to normal, and people started moving again. Time had started again. Confused as he was, Albert breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t fun to be the only thing moving! The next worry that demanded Albert’s attention was going back to his normal time-2013. People on the street were starting to give Albert strange looks. It wasn’t surprising- his clothes didn’t exactly blend in with the old fashioned times. Unsure of what to do, Albert headed for his Great grandfather’s house.

The walls were a murky, spinach green colour with large framed paintings of old people whose eyes followed Albert wherever he went. Albert looked up at his great grandfather again who was standing next to a huge, old grandfather clock, the pendulum swung in a rhythmic motion. “Who did you say you were?” he asked Albert.


“I didn’t say.” Albert replied.

“Well, who are you then?”

Albert was about to reply, but didn’t get a chance to do so before knocking into the grandfather clock, and hearing it fall with an almighty crash. A cracking sound followed and Albert paled. It had fallen right on top of his Great Grandfather. Blood oozed out from beneath the clock, and Albert gagged, feeling slightly nauseas.

What Albert didn’t realize, however, was that the situation he was in defied the laws of nature; he could not exist as he had killed his own great grandfather. The very existence of Albert was now just a mistake.

At first, it was just a small hole. Then, it grew. It grew so big that it nearly covered the entire room. Albert didn’t know what it was. It looked like a rather large, bottomless black hole. The hole started swirling. Faster and faster it spun, a whooshing noise filled the room. It spun so quickly; you could barely see it move. Once again, Albert was sucked into it headfirst.

Across the vast distances of time and space, Albert was thrown about, slowly shrinking atom by atom, his body slowly disintegrating until he was no more. The fact that Albert had ever set foot on the earth was now a legend. He was gone.

He Isn’t Coming Back Maria Jane F3B Dad is already out to fight for the rights we had. Moms backing the last piece of bread we have, Whilst Beth and I are trying to find a place to survive. Running from street to street, avoiding the airplane bombs. Once home, Without success to find food, We head to mom not realizing the trail of blood steps we were leaving behind us. Once the night falls, We wait for dad but he never appears. Mom says he probably sleeping in the barracks. She can’t fool me... He isn’t coming back

Artwork:

Oceane Jacob F5A


Home Georgina Cairns F3B Started eight years and a hundred and ninety days ago, Been there for three and a half, All I want is this to end. Three thousand, six hundred and twenty-five kilometers away, So far from my hometown, So many soldiers died including my uncle. I’m fighting for him, Sometimes it lasts in life but sometimes it hurts instead.

Artwork: Amelia Huang (bottom left) & San De Vos (top right) F4A

A Journey Kabir Sodhi F1B He was born small and smiling, Started to walk but always would fall, He started to talk and never would stop, With a cheeky twinkle to his eye. At the age of 5 School started, And he started to feel downhearted. He hit his teens Hanging out with mates Fooling around, mucking about And making the elderly mad. He is an adult now Got a driving license The right to vote And get married. Mid-life crisis Sometimes too young And sometimes too old. Retirement time Living in a big country house With nature as his best friend. In the coffin Friends and family Gathered around Mourning.


Journey to Find a Man’s Dreams Wai Chung Tse F3B Brian looked from the deck of the ship as she began to set sail, it was a 2 month journey from England to Singapore. He watched as the seagulls flew over the deck of the ship and waves crashed by the side of the ship. “A beautiful sight,” he murmured.

Brian was an author, travelling around the world to write magnificent stories for the readers back in Britain. He hasn’t been to Singapore, though many friends of his would prefer staying in Britain, he firmly decided to go alone. He was quite fascinated about the world itself, thinking about the wonders he would see, meeting people from different places. People thought he was mad to go solo to explore, leaving behind his own soil to find other riches. He did not care much about what others thought, only the desire to pursue his dreams and goals.

Brian stepped out of his cabin, and the sun’s rays glazed on his face, he put his hand in front to cover the rays of the sun, “Gosh,” he thought “Why is it so hot here?” He thought about taking a walk around the cabin but he couldn’t stand the intense heat here. But when he wanted to get back into his cabin, he saw a mob of people crowding around the main hall of the ship. He was eager to find out what was the commotion all about, so he rushed there to take a look, and he found that the captain was making an important announcement.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we will soon be arriving at Singapore, please forgive me for the distasteful weather in Singapore, it is like people being baked in an oven,” said the captain. There were a few laughs in the crowd before the captain carried on with his speech. “Recent findings in Singapore showed that there is a kind of insect called mosquitoes and that they will bring sickness to your body and the Colonial Government requested all Citizens to be warned before stepping the step on the land of Singapore.”

Brian walked down the plank of the ship, the crew members of the ship said to him, “Welcome to Singapore and take care, sir.” He thanked them and walked quickly away. When he was at the dock, he saw many yellow skinned people sitting on their so called “rickshaws” and shouting in broken English. “Where you go, sir?” Many others just walked by ignoring these people, but some people did get on. A person put his hand on his shoulder, “Excuse me sir, my name is Walter Brown from the colonial office. Are you Mr. Brian Woods?” he asked.

“Yes sir, I am.” Brian replied.

“You called for a ride sir?” The Colonial Officer said.

Yes, I did.” He replied.

The Colonial Officer waved his hand and two rickshaws came. “I am here to accompany and show you the way to your accommodation, sir. Do you need any other things?” he asked. Brian thanked him and sat on the rickshaw, he didn’t say much in the ride and was more focused on the scenes of Singapore, he quickly took out his notebook and started to jot notes on the outskirts of Singapore.

It was rather a bumpy ride to the main town where there was a mix of Whites, Browns and Yellows. The rickshaws travelled quite speedily through the streets and when they arrived, they stepped out of their seats and the officer paid them. Brian was sweating heavily, his cheeks were dazing red and the beads of sweat were trickling down his neck. Though he didn’t care much, he was looking at how the indigenous people were interacting with each other and how different they were to us.

He and the officer stepped into a fancy hotel, called the “Raffles”. He checked into his room, and the officer went back to his office. He took a shower and he felt tired, so he slumped onto the bed and fell asleep.

the fis dragonfly digest - weebly

Documents